Heart of the Sociopath
by Lady Artimes Blaine
Summary: Artimes was an ordinary girl with a sociopath as her best friend. Things changed when they visited Cardiff and were sucked into the rift. Her friend disappeared and she landed on two people she thought were purely fictional, Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Her life gets really complicated when a certain Timelord gets involved.
1. Chapter 1: Intrigue of the Traveler

Lady A: Hello all you Ladies and Gents and welcome to Heart of the Sociopath! Now this is a Sherlock/Doctor Who crossover. Yeah, don't ask me how I figured out the meshing of these two shows. I was extremely tired every time I was writing it so yeah, expect some weirdness.

Apologies to all those waiting on my other stories, but I wanted to go ahead and post this because I was curious about people's reactions. Also, a word of warning to all you lovely people reading this: Artimes, my OC, will have a linear time stream with Sherlock. She will not, however, have a linear time stream with the Doctor. He pops up whenever he pleases.

Another thing, Artimes arrives in the year two thousand and four about September of that year. Therefore, there will be a lot of Doctor Who goodness before we reach the Sherlock series, which its timeline doesn't properly begin until two thousand and ten. Once we do get into the Sherlock series, things will get very twisted and maybe just a little confusing.

Apparently, I'm rambling away like an idiot as per the usual so one final thing before we get this party started properly. I will be using the Sneak Preview thing that I do with my other stories, so only Brief Recaps will be used and no Looking Forwards.

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Now enough of my incessant chin wagging! On with the show! *thinks for a moment* The game is on! *nods appreciatively*

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Chapter One: Intrigue of the Traveler

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Artimes Blaine was an average red head with sapphire blue eyes, but she had a not so average heart. She was kind, gentle, caring, compassionate, and just a tiny bit noble. She befriended the unlikeliest of people ranging from the slightly odd to the not so sane. Out of all the people she had come to know over the years, there was only one that had stuck by her and that was her best friend, Erin Hoover. Erin was a high functioning sociopath with golden brown hair and hazel eyes.

Their first meeting had been far from ordinary and most definitely very interesting…if not a little entertaining. Erin had been conducting an experiment in the local park and had managed to upset a couple of joggers. Artimes, a woman who loathed shouting and was constantly playing the role of diplomat, came to his defense. She smoothed things out with the joggers and sent them on their way.

Now her sociopathic friend did not understand the concept of subtlety and preferred the bluntly honest approach. He deduced her life story in under ten minutes, fully expecting a negative reaction from the crimson haired woman. Instead of being insulted like a normal person would be, she had grinned and starting firing off question after question, wanting to know how he had derived his conclusions about her. The high functioning sociopath had been genuinely surprised that day and became slightly obsessed with her after that.

Since that day, they had been friends. He had been cold to her a lot but she simply brushed it off with a smile that made him very confused. He spent years trying to figure her out. He eventually learned that Artimes's presence was intoxicating and very infectious as well. His moods would always swing to the brighter side of the emotional spectrum when he was around her.

Her excitement and joy always made him smile, her curiosity and thirst for knowledge made him eager to teach her but also he was strangely proud of her when she picked up on things quickly, and when she was sad and despondent, he would do everything in his power to make her smile again. No matter how much he analyzed and reanalyzed the ginger haired woman, he could never seem to find a logical reason for her behavior towards himself.

A particular incident shed light on his deep rooted and primal instinct to protect what he deemed as his and she was his Artz. Her landlord, while in a drunken stupor, had attempted to rape the ginger in her very own bed. It had taken all of his will power to restrain himself from killing the vile and disgusting excuse of a human. After the incident, he informed Artimes that she would be living with him from that point on and she more than happily accepted that arrangement.

They lived together for five years of their eight-year friendship and it had taken six years for the sociopath to comprehend the ginger's 'deep love' for the British television series called Doctor Who. Upon discovering her most recent obsession with BBC's Sherlock and the fact that she had become addicted to the show in under twelve minutes, he concluded that she was attracted to those who possessed an exceptionally high intelligence such as the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes.

As a treat for the crimson haired woman's twenty sixth birthday, Erin arranged for them to travel to Cardiff, Wales to take part in the Doctor Who Experience. He bought her every gadget and gizmo the convention had to offer including, but not limited to, both the Tenth and Eleventh's sonic screwdrivers, a personally designed hand crafted sonic screwdriver, Jack's vortex manipulator, River's alpha meson pistols, and several other devices.

After the Doctor Who Experience, Artimes expressed a desire to visit the Millennium Center, the supposed home of Torchwood Three. The pair walked arm in arm, the ginger laughing and beaming away like any idiot.

"That was brilliant, Erin! Thank you so much for bringing me here! Ooh, cold." She said happily before shivering as the wind blew through the plaza.

The ginger was a Floridian so the cooler temperatures of the North always made her freeze, but her excitement and happiness kept her from noticing it too much.

"Only the best for my Artz. Now shall we visit the travel agency?" He replied giving her a cheeky and smug smile.

She giggled and nodded enthusiastically, liking the idea immensely. The travel agency was meant to be the front door for the Hub and she just had to see it once. She dragged him across the plaza, by some miracle avoiding the countless people milling about.

"Come on, Erin!" She stated smiling broadly, her eyes full of excitement.

He laughed and let her drag him into the nearby alley that cut down to their destination. They didn't get more than a few feet down the small road before they were surrounded by waves of golden light. Artimes began to panic when she felt Erin's hand disappear from her own.

"Erin!" She cried out in alarm.

Suddenly, it felt like her body was on fire and mini explosions erupting from the inside of her body to the outside. She screamed in immense pain, trying to remain conscious under the onslaught.

"Artz!" A man's voice called out, who sounded remarkably similar to the Ninth Doctor's voice.

She screamed again as the pain intensified and she could feel herself falling. Next thing she knew most of the pain and the light had vanished and she landed on two people, one with a thin body build and the other with a thicker body build. Both instantly wrapped their arms around her to cushion her fall and all three of them fell to the cold, hard ground.

The man with the thinner build brought her more fully into his arms and was seemingly checking her body for any damage. The man with the thicker build was talking and it took her a few moments to understand what he was actually asking her.

"Miss, are you alright?" The thicker one pestered.

She whimpered when the thinner man sat up with her in his lap, her body still experiencing the whiplash of what had just happened to her. The man stopped moving immediately and simply tightened his grasp around her waist. She forced herself up a bit and managed to look at the man's face. Her sapphire blue eyes connected to his pale blue ones and it took her a few seconds to comprehend what she was seeing.

Now she was light headed, dizzy, confused, exhausted, and in a fair amount of pain, but her tired mind seemed perfectly fine in accepting the fact that she was in the arms of 1.) Benedict Cumberbatch, 2.) Khan Noonien Singh, or 3.) Sherlock Holmes.

"Benedict, Khan, or Sherlock?" She asked softly, blinking a few times to try to clear up the blurriness.

She saw no recognition for the first two names, but on the third, his eyes widen a bit and he gave her a curious look. She smiled slightly. She had always wanted to befriend Sherlock then she met Erin, a high functioning sociopath. Now she was in the arms of yet another brilliant minded sociopath…the universe really liked her, didn't it?

"Okay, Sherlock Holmes then. Ever heard of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?" She continued on, trying to sit up more but ended up collapsing into the detective's chest.

The pain from her recent experience was beginning to wear off and she was starting to realize just how truly tired she was. It was taking a lot of effort and stubbornness to keep herself awake.

"Author of the famous detective series called The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Both my brother and myself were named after the characters." He answered his deep baritone making her want to melt.

It was his voice that made her fall in love with the Sherlock series during his first deduction of Doctor John Watson. She felt his left arm wrap more securely around her waist and he used his right hand to position her head more comfortably on his chest. She nearly sighed in relief, the ache in her neck easing off.

"Who are you and how do you know about my brother? It's obvious that you recognized him immediately." The other demanded kneeling next to the pair, his eyes cold and calculating.

Her glazed over blue eyes looked over at the speaker. So the idiot trying to order answers out of her was Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's elder brother and an official in the British government.

"Under normal circumstances, Mycroft, I would tell you to piss off, but seeing as how I won't be awake for much longer, I'll tell you what I can." She replied as she fought to keep her eyelids open.

"We can finish this later." The younger Holmes stated resting his gloved hand on her left cheek, forcing to open her eyes from where they had closed.

"No, we do this now." The official replied earning a rather venomous glare from the detective.

"Artimes Twilight Blaine. I go by the nickname of Artz. I'm twenty six years old, born January the eighth, nineteen eighty nine. I am from the year twenty fifteen. If I have deduced correctly, despite my increasing exhaustion, then from your perspective, I am from a parallel world with a time line that runs faster than yours does.

I and my best friend, Erin Nathaniel Hoover, were surrounded by this gold light while we were in Cardiff. I believe that light was the visible representation of an energy spike from a spatial/temporal rift. I am uncertain as to what became of my friend, but I am pretty certain that I do not exist in this reality, meaning no forms of identification or documents of any kind." She stated her voice becoming quieter and quieter as she spoke, her fatigue starting to win.

"Enough, Mycroft. You can get your answers after she has slept for a few hours." Sherlock snapped his pale blue eyes flashing in growing irritation.

"Not until she explains everything." The elder Holmes replied calmly, earning a harsh glare from his younger sibling.

He was about to reply when his eyes snapped back to the woman in his arms. She was beginning to shift again, trying to sit up enough to look at his elder brother. He assisted her and she shot him a grateful look.

"In my world, the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle were modernized into a more contemporary version set in the early twenty first century. It was called BBC's Sherlock. Each series had three episodes with each episode running roughly an hour and twenty nine minutes without commercials. That's how I know you, Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. You look like your fictional counterparts who are played by Mark Ghatiss and Benedict Cumberbatch. If you want to learn anything else from me, Mycroft, then piss off." She explained struggling to keep her eyes open more than half way, "Can I go to sleep now?"

The question had been directed towards the younger Holmes and his facial features softened marginally, his pale blue eyes holding a very gentle look in them.

"Sleep." He ordered softly.

She gave him a lazy smile, her sapphire orbs expressing both her gratitude and relief. Her eyes slid close, despite the elder brother's protests. She fell asleep almost instantly, feeling perfectly safe in the arms of a high functioning sociopath.

* * *

It had been two days since the rather unusual arrival of the crimson haired woman named Artz. She was currently in the detective's bed, in a deep and sound sleep. She had not moved nor had she wakened in that entire time. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, his hands steepled under his chin. His elder brother sat in the chair opposite of him. The two had been discussing what to do with the ginger and they were at a bit of an impasse.

"She's staying, Mycroft." Sherlock stated coldly, his pale blue eyes sending his brother a glare that reflected what he was feeling.

"I understand your fascination with this woman, brother mine. Given our inability to deduce her, her rather extraordinary arrival, and the fact that everything she had spoken in regards to us was true, but this is a matter best handled by UNIT. They are trained for this sort of thing." The elder Holmes replied completely unaffected by his brother's frigid behavior.

"No, UNIT would simply lock her away in a cold, dark cell and either forget that she even exists or worse, they would experiment on her. She has more than proven that she possesses a higher intelligence than the average human and she has adequate perceptional and observational skills as well. She would be an asset to me, one that I have every intention of keeping and utilizing." The younger Holmes responded allowing his arms to fall onto the arm rests.

"And what will you do when she discovers your rather bizarre and increasingly alarming experiments throughout the flat, hm? She does not strike me as someone who would react favorably to a severed head, a bowl of eyes, or a bag of thumbs where one keeps bread, milk, or other such foods and drinks." The elder Holmes countered giving his younger sibling a knowing look.

The younger Holmes conceded mentally that his elder brother had made a valid point, but there was something different about the ginger haired woman. Something inside of him told the detective that she would react far more differently than the average human being. There was no logical evidence to support such an unusual deduction, but he was acting on it nevertheless. Something about the ginger made it imperative to keep her with him and he was both frustrated and intrigued as to why he felt that way.

"If we were a televised series as she claims, Mycroft, then it stands to reason that she would have a prior awareness of my more bizarre habits and would most likely dismiss it as my usual behavior, not giving it any further thought." Sherlock stated stubbornly.

Mycroft stared silently at his brother, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of revealing a certain tidbit of information. He came to a decision, his eyes turning colder for a moment.

"Torchwood has expressed an interest in her." He informed causing his younger sibling to stiffen at the name.

"You wouldn't dare. Even you are not that cruel, _brother_." The younger Holmes seethed coldly, his eyes flashing dangerously and his tone filled with venom.

The elder Holmes's eyes softened from their original glacial state.

"They are not aware of her name, her physical description, or her whereabouts, brother mine. The only information they have of her is that she is in my care, nothing more. You're right, Sherlock, I am not that cruel. I may be above sentiment and caring, but even I would not condemn an innocent young woman who has done no wrong into the constrictive embrace of the Torchwood Institute." The government official replied before sighing slightly and withdrawing a document sized manila envelope from his briefcase, "Which is why I took the liberty of creating Miss Blaine's identity in our world; personal records, educational history, background information, citizenship approval, identifications card and driver's license. I also opened a bank account for her with adequate funds that will replenish as the need arises. You, dear brother, will be responsible for her care and protection and for God's sake, don't drive her away. To do so would potentially send her right into Torchwood's hands."

The younger Holmes accepted the envelope, externally concealing his surprise at his brother's efficiency and attention to detail. His eyes narrowed slightly as a thought occurred to him…why?

"Why are you doing all this, Mycroft? We've spent the last hour arguing about Artimes and yet your actions give rise to a far more complex motive. Why are you going to such lengths to help her? What is the true purpose for such precautions? Why are you willing to conceal her presence so completely?" Sherlock queried lifting the hand holding the envelope as reference to what he was referring to.

The government official simply smiled at his younger brother and rose from his chair, picking up the briefcase as he did.

"Good day, Sherlock, and do keep her happy. Who knows…she might do the same for you if you let her." Mycroft responded a knowing look in his eyes.

He turned his back and ignored the detective's piercing and discerning gaze as he left the flat. The consultant detective looked towards his bedroom, his pale blue orbs burning with so many questions. All he could do was wait…wait for the mysterious and highly intriguing traveler to awaken and perhaps give him the enlightenment he sought.

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Lady A: Tada! Chapter One: Intrigue of the Traveler is over and done with! Whew! I had to type this up at three different times, because I kept getting interrupted or had to move stuff or furniture. Leave tons and tons of reviews, telling me what you all thought about it! Be on the lookout for Chapter Two: Mystery of History! Stay Tuned!

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_Sneak Preview_

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"_I can't deduce you and neither can my brother. You seemed to be enshrouded by an odd sort of static. The best I would be able to accomplish is educated and quite possible highly inaccurate guesses." Sherlock stated his arms returning to the arm rests._

_The ginger's smile dropped as her eyes narrowed, an emotion he could not identify flashing through those sapphire orbs. She held out her right hand, palm upwards._

"_Can I borrow your phone?" She asked kindly._

"_Why?" He countered not understanding what she was going to do._

"_I need to make a call." Artimes replied a smirk on her lips and an almost wicked look in her eyes._

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Lady A: Oh dear, what has Artimes thought up now? And why do I get the feeling that somebody's in trouble? Moreover, who is she calling because she's only been there like two days? You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you? *smirks knowingly* Laters!


	2. Chapter 2: Mystery of History

Lady A: Hey everyone and welcome back to Heart of the Sociopath! I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to get back to one of my solo stories, but in my defense, the stories that I'm co-authoring with matthewcortes93 are totally freaking awesome! *coughs to regain her composure*

Right, moving along. Much love and overwhelming gratitude to all those who fave, follow, and review my rubbish...I mean, my work. You guys…and girls are the best!

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Brief Recap: Artz found herself in the world of Sherlock and Doctor Who. She had a not so brief conversation with the Holmes brothers, but then quickly passed out. The brothers then argued over the fate of the mysterious ginger, finally reaching the agreement that she would remain in Sherlock's care.

Now on with the show!

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Chapter Two: Mystery of History

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The ginger haired woman from another reality awoke harshly, her breathing heavy and ragged. She had been having some sort of nightmare. There were these ugly, scaly humanoid creatures wanting to experiment on her and Erin, and for some unknown reason, the Ninth Doctor was there too, trying to save them. She had no Earthly idea as to why a fictional character would be involved, but she figured she would ask Erin about it later.

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of them. She blinked a few times, only to realize that she was not in her room. The bedroom she was currently in was rather small, so small that it made her feel like the walls were closing in on her. It was highly neat and well organized, everything in pristine condition. She was feeling rather nervous because she didn't understand where she was or why she was there.

It made her feel out of control, caged even, and she hated the feeling of being trapped. She hated the loss of freedom and control. She'd admit it, if only to herself, that she liked being able to control her environment. Her place, her rules, and if someone crossed her, they had to deal with her sociopathic best friend.

Thinking of Erin brought back her most recent memories and her eyes widened. Erin was gone, vanished into thin air, and she was alone, completely and utterly alone. For the first time in years, Artimes felt extremely insecure, frightened, and just a tiny bit paranoid. Erin had been by her side for such a long time that she had gotten used to his constant presence. He always made her feel safe and protected like nothing could harm her, but now that was gone…her Erin was gone.

She had been so lonely and empty before she met him, clinging to the promise of the Doctor's name just to keep her going, and once again she was alone, but even worse, she had no one to rely on; her family, her best friend, even her cat, Merlin…it was all gone. That train of thought finally broke down the wall holding her deeper emotions at bay and the shock of what had happened to her finally settled in.

Tears filled her sapphire eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She didn't make a sound as she cried, simply too overwhelmed to move or utter a peep. She just sat there in the bed and let the tears fall, not bothering to wipe them away. She was so far gone that she didn't notice the near silent arrival of a certain consultant detective.

The younger Holmes observed the silently crying red head for several moments. He was highly disturbed by his emotional reaction to her tears. It actually pained him to see her in such a state. He may not have been able to deduce her or anything from her life, but he did recognize the signs of shock and loss. He just never thought there could be so much devastation and pain to such a state. He had been wondering when the shock would finally hit her, but he never expected it to happen shortly after waking.

She made no visible sign that she was aware of his presence as he ventured closer to the bed and judging by the pin points her pupils had shrunk to, she was definitely experiencing acute shock and a grief so powerful that even he, the high functioning sociopath, was affected. He sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. Contrary to what his brother might believe, Sherlock did understand the necessity of physical contact, especially during times of intense sorrow and mourning. For she was, in fact, mourning…mourning the loss of her friend, her family, her world. Everything she knew was gone in an instant and he couldn't really fathom what that must feel like…to lose it all in a split second.

He gingerly placed her head against his chest, positioning her right ear above his heart. The sound of his heart beating next to her ear would provide both an audio and physical stimulus that should assist in breaking through her shocked state. He placed his left hand more firmly around her waist and cupped her cheek with his right, wiping away the constant stream of tears with his thumb.

"Artz." He said softly when she showed no visible change.

He watched as her eyes dilated and she began to vocally sob, her state of shock evaporating very quickly as she descended into an emotional mess. Her sobs grew to the level of screaming. She became so loud that he had to actually press her face into his chest to spare not only his ear drums but to spare him the headache of the moronic police showing up and citing him with a noise violation. He had to admit, if only within the confines of his own mind, that he disliked the ginger being in so much pain. He wanted her to smile again and be her normal sassy and sarcastic self again. He wanted her to be the woman he had met mere days ago. The woman that sassed his brother for the fun of it and the woman who was perfectly content in the arms of a sociopath.

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Artimes sat in a comfy chair across from the consultant detective. He had blissfully remained silent about her descent into an emotional mess and she was eternally grateful for that small courtesy. She was more than a little angry at herself for losing control over her deeper emotions. She was usually better at keeping herself contained and she prided herself for being able to stay calm and think rationally during stressful situations.

"So…what now?" She asked curiously, very uncertain about what her future might hold.

"Mycroft has placed you in my care and has created the proper documentation for your existence in this reality." Sherlock answered handing her a large manila envelope.

She accepted the envelope and sifted through the contents; IDs, medical history, vaccination records, educational history, visa, passport, citizenship papers, and several other documents that she couldn't identify. All in all, a very thorough job…too thorough. Some of the information was extremely specific and she highly doubted that the elder Holmes would have been able to deduce exact dates and even exact events. Something was not right about this. She looked up at the younger Holmes, fingering the bank card in her hand and twirling it a bit.

"Basic ID and history, I can understand, but some of this is highly specific, especially the dates. I highly doubt that your brother could gleam such minute details from his deductions. So my question is this; how does he know so much about me when I've only been here for two days?" She questioned her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly before placing his hands in a steeple like fashion under his chin, his prayer pose as the Sherlock fans would call it.

"That is something I would like to know myself. My brother seems very insistent about keeping you away from Torchwood." Sherlock answered.

All the color drained from the ginger's face at the mention of _that_ institute. Her mind was racing at the implications. She originally thought that she had landed into a parallel world very similar to BBC's Sherlock and not the world of Doctor Who. If the Torchwood Institute was real then that meant a certain two hearted alien was also real, considering that the institute was created by Queen Victoria to combat such threats like the Timelord and the werewolf.

The ginger's reaction to the word 'Torchwood' did not go unnoticed by the consultant detective. He was curious as to how she knew of that vile organization and the true severity of her predicament.

"Based on your ashen skin and the almost petrified look in your eyes, you know of Torchwood." He stated rather than asked.

She nodded slightly, swallowing hard and forcing herself to calm down.

"Another show in my world called Doctor Who introduced the Torchwood Institute in Season Two of the reboot. It was founded in eighteen seventy nine by Queen Victoria to combat the alien horde as she called it. The name was derived from the estate where she had an encounter with two different aliens. One was in the guise of a werewolf wanting to infect her to gain the crown while the other was a time traveler simply passing through and decided to help out.

The Torchwood Institute has, as of now, three main command nodes across the British Isles. The first and main base of operations is Torchwood One, located in London…Canary Wharf to be precise. The secondary base of operations is Torchwood Two, located in Glasgow. Exact whereabouts were not depicted in the show. Finally, the final command node, referred to as Torchwood Three or The Hub, is located in Cardiff, Wales." Artimes explained.

Sherlock was mildly surprised by the amount of information that she had on the Torchwood Institute and if they were to ever learn about her…no, he would not allow any harm to come to her. That much he was certain of, though for the life of him, he couldn't comprehend his strong emotional response to the thought of her being injured.

"You mentioned Cardiff when you first arrived." He prompted resting his chin on his now intertwined hands.

"Yes, according to the Doctor Who series, there is a rift in space and time running straight through the city and it is the reason why Torchwood set up a base of operations there. All sorts of things come through the rift; from aliens to technology to debris. Sometimes there are negative spikes which take people and objects from here and deposit them on other planets and even in different time periods." She explained.

Artimes was turning into quite the asset for the consultant detective. She was clever and very knowledgeable.

"And you believe that a similar phenomenon is what brought you to our world." He concluded.

"Considering that all the knowledge I'm drawing from is from fictional sources, I can't be certain of anything, but given that Erin and myself were in the heart of Cardiff and surrounded by a golden light that looked remarkably similar to the temporal energy depicted in Doctor Who, it is at least a plausible possibility." She replied.

He sat back in his chair, mulling over everything she had told him. A thought occurred to him and he decided to broach the subject with the crimson haired woman.

"Your reasoning is sound and given your knowledge of myself and Torchwood, it gives credence to the possibility of foreknowledge." He responded curious of what her answer would be.

"Even if I did, in fact, possess knowledge of the future and that's a big if then I will not give any spoilers away whatsoever. If there is one thing I have learned from the Doctor Who series is that foreknowledge is dangerous. The wrong word spoken at the wrong time or to the wrong person could result in a devastating paradox that could rip apart the very fabric of the universe. My knowledge could kill us all." She countered completely serious.

"Goes without saying, Artz. A paradox would be unbeneficial to me at this present time." He concurred smiling slightly.

Artimes giggled, her mind reminiscing the time she spent with the high functioning sociopath that was her best friend. She sobered almost instantly, her heart aching as she remembered that he was gone. Acclimating to Erin's absence was going to be very difficult for her because she and Erin had practically been attached at the hip for almost five years of their eight-year friendship.

"You're thinking about him…that friend of yours, Erin." Sherlock stated softly.

She nodded in response, once again pulling herself back together.

"Tell me about him. How did you meet?" The detective asked.

The ginger looked into the younger Holmes' pale blue eyes and she was genuinely surprised by the level of sincerity and gentleness in those calm blue orbs. She had always been able to read his fictional counterpart like an open book and it would seem that it carried over to the very real and very handsome Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective.

'My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?' – Mycroft Holmes – A Scandal in Belgravia

Artimes's mind, heart, and instincts were all saying the same thing, 'Trust Sherlock Holmes'. That was exactly what she was going to do. She was going to be his friend, to be there for him when all others fell away, and to always accept him for the brilliant and sometimes arrogant man that was. She was going to stay by his side for as long as she was able…which may prove difficult if she ever became involved with a certain time traveling idiot with a bigger on the inside blue box.

"I was on my way to work one day and took a shortcut through the park. Walked past this strange fellow who was doing something to the ducks at the pond. Apparently, he was conducting some sort of experiment, but as fate would have it, it kind went sideways. The ducks started dive bombing people, particularly a couple on their early morning jog. They were _not_ happy with Erin and proceeded to shout at the top of their lungs at him. I stepped in, smooth things over, and sent them on their merry way." She answered smiling fondly at the memory.

"No doubt he was grateful for your assistance." He concluded once again assuming his trademark prayer position.

The ginger snorted in amusement, making the younger Holmes frown at her in confusion.

"You're drawing conclusions based on what you have observed in normal human behavior, but Sherlock, Erin was far from normal…very far." She replied smirking.

"Then by all means, enlighten me, Miss Blaine." He responded gesturing for her to continue.

"He was extremely…_perturbed_ by my 'interference in matters that did not concern me'. He was the epitome of ungratefulness and he proceeded to pick apart my life story in…oh, three minutes." She answered laughing, her eyes sparkling.

"What is so amusing? Most women, most people in fact, would be highly upset at the invasion of their privacy." Sherlock queried highly confused by her reaction.

She giggled some more, drawing her legs up into the chair and tucking them beneath her before she continued her story.

"Hate to break it to you, Lock, but I'm not like most people and certainly not like any woman you've ever met or been acquainted with. Erin discovered this very quickly. I started firing off question after question after question, grinning like an idiot. The look on his face was priceless. After that day, he never left me alone. I think he became a little obsessed in his quest to figure me out." She replied smiling widely, "I am kind of surprised that you haven't attempted to deduce me like Erin did. You have the reputation of deducing first, commonly shoving your foot in your mouth in the process and pissing people off, and ask questions later. Mainly to see if you got anything wrong."

"I can't deduce you and neither can my brother. You seemed to be enshrouded by an odd sort of static. The best I would be able to accomplish is educated and quite possibly highly inaccurate guesses." Sherlock stated his arms returning to the arm rests.

The ginger's smile dropped as her eyes narrowed, an emotion he could not identify flashing through those sapphire orbs. She held out her right hand, palm upwards.

"Can I borrow your phone?" She asked kindly.

"Why?" He countered not understanding what she was going to do.

"I need to make a call." Artimes replied a smirk on her lips and an almost wicked look in her eyes.

The consultant detective sensed that this was important to her so he promptly pulled out his mobile from his inner jacket pocket and placed it gingerly into her hand. She stood up as she scrolled through the contacts until she located the one she was looking for. She highlighted Mycroft's name and selected it, placing the call as she walked away a few steps. She put the phone to her ear and it rung twice before being picked up.

"We need to talk…_now_." She stated firmly, her tone surprisingly cold.

She hung up and tossed the phone back to bewildered younger Holmes, who caught it effortlessly and returned it to his pocket. She did not speak another word and simply sat down on the surface of his desk, watching the doorway with the look of a predator. Sherlock Holmes had an inclination that things were going to be very interesting with the crimson haired woman around and he smirked slightly. This was going to be rather fun.

* * *

Lady A: That's all she wrote for Chapter Two: Mystery of History! Whew! Lots of talking in this, but hey, it's the beginning of the story and stuff just had to be said. Right, leave tons and tons of reviews and be on the lookout for Chapter Three: The Cleverness of Artz! Stay Tuned!

* * *

_Sneak Preview_

* * *

"_What's wrong?" Sherlock asked leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed._

_The red head glanced over at him briefly then her gaze returned to the item that had given her pause._

"_Mind explaining why there is a gallon of spoiled milk next to a severed head in the refrigerator?" She countered sounding remarkably calm._

* * *

Lady A: Oh ho! Looks like Sherlock's experiments will be coming into play in the next chapter! How will our favorite red head react, hm? You'll just have to wait and see, now won't you, dearies. Laters! *disappears in a puff of blue smoke*


End file.
